Abraham's Daughter
by Across the Landz
Summary: Hermione Granger discovers a secret that changes the very course of history...or at least the history we all know and love. Starting at PoA.
1. Chapter 1

**Abraham's Daughter**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any part of Harry Potter. Clearly, Jo Rowling does. I'm just a manipulator. ; )**

The gentle patter of rain splashed against the window pane as Hermione Granger sat at her desk composing a letter. This letter was intended for one of her best friends, Harry Potter. She had been friends with Harry since her Halloween of her first year at Hogwarts and they were quickly approaching their third year of studies. Her hand gracefully moved across the paper as she dotted her i's and crossed her t's when the doorbell rang. Motionless, she sat for several moments before abandoning her chair. She flew down the stairs, but when she was halfway down she found that her mother opening the front door. Professor Albus Dumbledore was revealed to be standing on the other side of the door. Hermione looked at her headmaster quizzically, wondering what intention he had at her home on summer holiday. She had already received her supply list for the upcoming school year and she couldn't think of another plausible explanation for his unexpected arrival. Her mother greeted Professor Dumbledore cordially before allowing him entrance into the Granger home. Dumbledore door thanked Mrs. Granger kindly and recognized Hermione's presence with a stiff nod.

"Miss Granger, I hope that your holidays are going well I presume?" Dumbledore asked.

"Quite well, headmaster," Hermione agreed.

"Very good, now Mrs. Granger I need to speak with you and your husband in private," Dumbledore said with his eyes resting on Hermione at the end of his sentence.

"Of course, my husband is in the sitting room as we speak; just follow me," Mrs. Granger smiled.

Professor Dumbledore attempted to return the smile; but there was a grim shadow covering his normally twinkling blue eyes. Hermione watched as her mother led Dumbledore away from the foyer and into the sitting room. She took this as her cue to head back to her own room, which she grudgingly did. She wanted nothing more than to be downstairs with her parents and Dumbledore. What could he possibly have to tell them? If she had been with Harry and Ron at this very moment, they surely would have snuck downstairs and into the sitting room under Harry's Invisibility Cloak; but alas, she was alone in her muggle neighborhood without even magic at her disposal. But she desperately wanted to know what Professor Dumbledore was telling her parents. Had she failed out of Hogwarts? She had missed many classes last year because of her bad batch of Polyjuice potion and then again because she had been petrified because she saw the reflection of the Basilisk in the mirror. Then to top it off, Dumbledore had called-off all exams. Was it because of all this that she could be flunking out of Hogwarts? She needed to know, so she quietly moved down the stairs skipping the second stair from the top because she knew it squeaked. She was about halfway down the stairs when she stopped because she could perfectly hear the conversation and she still had a short distance to get upstairs so that she wouldn't get caught.

"Professor Dumbledore, you came to us after we formally adopted Hermione. Do you remember what you said to us?" Mrs. Granger asked.

Hermione gasped before quickly throwing her hands over her mouth. She was adopted! One would think that they would know they were adopted before they were thirteen, almost fourteen years old! She had only questioned her parentage for several fleeting moments when she was accepted to Hogwarts, but Professor McGonagall had assured her that Hogwarts had many students whose parents had no magical heritage. Surely, she had just heard her mother, if she should even call her that, wrong.

"I do Mrs. Granger. I told you that your daughter's biological parents were not going to be coming after her. But the situation has slightly altered," Dumbledore said.

_Daughter's biological parents._ It was true then. She wasn't really Hermione Granger and whoever her parents were, they had to be somehow involved in the Wizarding world, otherwise Dumbledore shouldn't be here. Right? It was the only thing that made sense.

"Slightly altered? How so? Is it her real mother?" Mrs. Granger questioned.

"Hermione's mother died in the Wizarding war," Dumbledore replied.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. I suppose there's a lot we don't know about Hermione. I never thought to question it. You said to raise her as our own," Mrs. Granger sighed.

"And you will continue to do so," Dumbledore assured them.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but why are you here then?" Mr. Granger asked.

"As much as I would like to continue, Hermione has been listening to our conversation from the stairs," Dumbledore said.

The teenage girl's eyes widened as she quickly dashed up the stairs and to her room. She could hear footsteps following after her when she shut her door. She leaned against it and slid to the floor with tears streaming down her cheeks. The more she let the information of her true parentage process through her brain, the angrier it made her. Her parents, if she could even call them that, had lied to her for years. She knew it was wrong, but she even felt bitter toward her parents for not telling her sooner. She tried not to let it bother her then, but Malfoy's name calling had caused her to break down in tears more than once. If she had known then, what she knew know she could've been spared some heartache. A knock came at the door as she used her sleeve to wipe away her tears.

"Hermione," Mrs. Granger said.

"Go away!" Hermione sniffled.

"Hermione, please," Mrs. Granger sighed.

Hermione roughly wiped away another tear before she stood up to open the door. Mrs. Granger looked at her adopted daughter with an expression of concern on her face, while Hermione attempted to mask her emotions with her arms folded across her chest. The older woman enveloped her daughter in a hug, one which Hermione didn't return.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione asked coldly.

"Sweetheart, we thought it was for the best," Mrs. Granger said.

"Best for whom? For you? It certainly wasn't what was best for me!" Hermione screamed.

"Hermione, don't talk to your mother like that!" Mr. Granger called from downstairs.

"You're not my mother," Hermione hissed.

She pushed the older woman's arms off her and snuck past her and ran down the hallway until she reached the stairs which she also ran down. She ran until she was out of the house. She tried to get her mother's face which was contorted in pain out of her memory. She knew that it was hurtful and that she shouldn't have said it, but it just came out. She was really mad. They had lied to her for years! Didn't she have every right to be angry? She hurriedly ran down the street just wanting to get as far away from her house as possible. Besides, it would give her parents the time they needed with Dumbledore, or so she had rationalized in her head.

Hermione walked for what seemed like hours until she came to the one place she always felt safe: the library. Even though it was raining, she sat down on the bench outside the library. She wished she would've remembered to have grabbed her wand before she left. Even though it was illegal for her do to magic outside of school, it at least would've made her feel safer. She curled her knees up to her chest as she sat on the bench trying to sort out her thoughts. None of this made sense, yet at the same time it made other things make sense. But what she wondered is who were her real parents? Dumbledore had mentioned that her mother had died during the Wizarding war, but what of her father. What happened enough to make Dumbledore worry?

In the distance, Hermione could see a big black dog, without an owner, trotting down the road. She felt like the dog was looking right at her, but that seemed rather stupid. The dog kept its eyes directly on her as it came closer and closer. Maybe it was hungry. She searched her pockets for something to give the dog, but they were quite empty. Something about the dog intrigued Hermione, almost like she had seen it before. But her parents, the ones she lived with, had never had a dog as long as she could recall. Her neighbors were more cat lovers than dog lovers, so she highly doubted that she could've seen the dog in her neighborhood. Maybe on one of her countless trips to the library she had come across the animal. The shaggy haired dog was almost within arm's reach, so Hermione stuck her hand out to pet the dog. The dog walked right up to her outstretched hand and allowed her to gently scratch it. Her hand searched around the animal's neck for a collar, but she didn't find one.

"Hermione, you don't know where that thing has been."

Hermione dropped her hand as she turned around to find her mother standing behind her.

"How did you find me?" Hermione asked.

"I may not be your biological mother, but I'm still your Mum. You're my daughter and I know you quite well. Besides, the library was the most obvious choice," Mrs. Granger said finishing with a smile.

The dog seemed to hang its head before it trotted across the street and into the bushes. Hermione rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands before she sighed.

"Hermione, you know better than to take off like that," Mrs. Granger said.

"I'm sorry, I was just so angry," Hermione said.

"I know you were. You have every right to be. I never meant for you to find out like this," Mrs. Granger furthered.

"Did you ever mean for me to find out?" Hermione asked somewhat bitterly.

"Your father and I agreed to tell you when the time was right; but the time just never seemed right," Mrs. Granger sighed.

"You should have told me," Hermione said.

"I know. I was just so scared to lose you," Mrs. Granger explained.

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond. She didn't want to lie and say that it was okay that they lied to her, because it wasn't. But she also didn't want to fight with the woman who had raised her since before she could even remember. Instead, she just sat there staring at the bush that odd dog had disappeared into as the rain gently fell on her face. Mrs. Granger wrapped an arm around her daughter and Hermione allowed herself to be held. The two sat there in the rain until Mr. Granger eventually showed up with the car so that they could go home to try and sort out the mess that had been made.


	2. Chapter 2

**Abraham's Daughter**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any part of Harry Potter. Clearly, Jo Rowling does. I'm just a manipulator. ; )**

Hermione was rereading one of her textbooks from the previous year when an owl pecked at her window. She hurriedly rushed to the window so that her unsuspecting Muggle neighbors would be none the wiser of why the owl was at her window. She flung her bedroom window open to allow the owl entrance to her room. Attached to the owl's leg was a copy of today's _Daily Prophet._ She unattached the paper from the owl's tiny leg before he flapped his wings to ascend into the rainy sky. Hermione closed her window and wiped away the stray droplets of water that had landed on her window sill before walking over to her bed. She gently sat at the edge of the bed and looked at the front page of the paper.

_Black Escapes_

_Notorious mass-murderer Sirius Black has somehow escaped from the clutches of the dementors at Azkaban prison. No word yet as to how Black managed the escape, but with him on the streets neither the Wizarding nor Muggle worlds are safe. Black is most remembered for the massacre twelve years ago when he killed thirteen people with a single curse. Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge had this to say about Black's escape "We are urging everyone to remain calm and carry about their business with a bit of caution. Black will be found and dealt with appropriately when he is found, and he will be found." So be on alert for a ragged and gaunt man with long, stringy black hair. If you see Black contact the Ministry of Magic immediately._

Hermione blinked her eyes. There was a photograph of the man in his prison uniform glaring at her from the paper. He certainly looked crazy, but something for a brief moment, something about his eyes looked familiar. She quickly shook her head, choosing to ignore the fleeting thought. Coming to rash conclusions without evidence to back something up would lead to nothing good. But she couldn't help but wonder if this man had something to do with Dumbledore's strange visit yesterday. It said that he had killed thirteen people about twelve years ago and if her math was right, that was about the time her real mother had died. Maybe this man was somehow linked to her mother's death. The thought slightly angered her. Was this man the reason that she had lost what was rightfully hers? Another peck came at the window and with a heavy heart; Hermione walked over to the window and noticed Hedwig, her best friend Harry Potter's owl, waiting outside. She opened the window once more and Hedwig flew in and perched on her bedpost.

"Hey girl," Hermione whispered.

Hedwig affectionately nipped at Hermione's hand before she untied the note attached. She opened the note to read Harry's note. Apparently, in a fit of rage, he had "blown-up" his aunt (his uncle's sister, really) before running away from home last night. Hermione groaned when she read that Harry had run away, but as she continued to read, she read of his adventure on the Knight Bus before winding up at the Leaky Cauldron. Trouble always had a knack for finding her dear friend. Their first year at Hogwarts, he had discovered a plot to steal the Philosopher's Stone only to end up face to face (literally) with You-Know-Who who had killed his parents and tried to kill him. Then last year, the Chamber of Secrets had been opened and Harry found himself sucked in once more into the drama. Both times he had succeed in defeating You-Know-Who, which made her proud of her friend, but she wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up with You-Know-Who's attempts.

"Hermione, come out of your room. You haven't even eaten breakfast!" Her mother called from downstairs.

"I'm studying!" Hermione called back.

She sat there for a moment waiting for her mother to respond, but she didn't, so she took out a piece of parchment and began a long and detailed letter to Harry. He would understand her situation. He had been in a similar situation you could say. He was still finding out his ties to the Wizarding World, just like Hermione was now learning about hers. She laughed at the thought of writing a letter about this to Ron. No, he wouldn't understand. He had known the Wizarding World his entire life, so Harry was the better choice. Besides, if she was honest with herself, she was probably a little closer to Harry than she was with Ron. She couldn't exactly name what was different between her relationships with Harry and Ron, they just were. Both boys meant a great deal to her, but each of them was dear to her in a different way. Which considering what she knew about friendships, that was the way friendships worked.

Quickly, she wrote down all the details she could think of about her situation in her letter to Harry before handing the letter over to Hedwig, who stood on her windowsill nipping at her wings. Hedwig gladly accepted the letter and flew off for Harry, who was staying at the Leaky Cauldron, which served at the entrance to Diagon Alley. Hermione stood at her window watching the sky where Hedwig had flown-off into when a gentle knock came at her door. Hermione turned around to see her mother opening the door, so she rolled her eyes and plopped her body onto her bed.

"Hermione, darling, you've hardly left your room since…"her mother began.

"Since I found out you've been lying to me my entire life?" Hermione hissed.

"Sweetheart, we did it to protect you," her mother said softly.

"From who? From him?" Hermione questioned.

She roughly grabbed her copy of today's Wizarding news and thrust it at her mother. Her mother grabbed the paper and examined it, noting the man plastered to the front page. Mrs. Granger sighed and sat down on the foot of Hermione's bed. She moved her arm to touch her daughter, but Hermione instantly moved away from any affection. The older set her hands on her lap and looked down to the floor with a downcast glance.

"You weren't supposed to find out like this," her mother muttered.

"He killed my mother, didn't he?" Hermione asked.

"I can't answer that," her mother answered.

"You can't, or you won't?" Hermione furthered.

"Professor Dumbledore requested to be the one to explain everything to you. I agree that he should be the one to do it; he's far more knowledgeable on the situation than I am," Mrs. Granger sighed.

"And when am I going to be told exactly?" Hermione questioned.

"In good time, darling. He wants you to spend the rest of your summer as normally as you can," Mrs. Granger explained.

"Everything has already changed. How can it ever go back to normal?" Hermione asked.

"How about some tea?" Mrs. Granger sighed as she changed the subject.

"I'd like to be alone, thank you," Hermione said.

Mrs. Granger looked at Hermione, as if she wanted to say more but she stood up to leave her daughter alone as she had requested. She didn't like Hermione being so hostile toward her, but with the given situation if was to be expected. Gently closing the door behind her, Hermione's mother left the room leaving Hermione on her bed with her arms folded across her chest. She wanted to know exactly what Sirius Black had to do with her, but any information that she needed would be found at Hogwarts. So she either had to wait for Dumbledore to show-up on her doorstep again or until she was at Hogwarts. This didn't sit well with Hermione. She wanted to understand now, but at the moment, her theory about Sirius Black murdering her mother seemed to be most plausible. After all, the man was a murderer and the timing seemed to add up. But, she would wait until she had researched the topic a bit more before she came to any solid conclusions. Until then, she was going to stay far away from those who had lied to her and hurt her. Looking once more out her window, she saw her mother pulling out of their small driveway in her car. Today was the day she always went shopping for groceries, like clockwork and without fail. Why should something like this change her schedule? She looked once more at Harry's letter and carefully studied the part about the Knight Bus. It didn't seem that difficult and if Harry could summon the Knight Bus on accident, surely she'd be able to summon it.

Hermione looked back once more at the pictures hung on her walls. Pictures taken outside the theater with the man she had called her father and one at a villa in France with the woman she had called her mother. In her heart, she knew that she still loved them even though they had hurt her; but she couldn't stay here any longer. She needed to be some place where she could sort out her thoughts. Besides, she wouldn't exactly be alone in Diagon Alley, Harry was there. Normally, she didn't act on such whims, but this had been coming and she needed to do it now before she talked herself out of it. She reached under her bed and pulled out her Hogwarts trunk and furiously began packing everything she would need. Her essentials had already been stacked neatly in her closet has she had anticipated going back to Hogwarts since the second week of her summer break. Now, it was only a matter of making sure that everything fit into her trunk.

Half-an-hour later, her trunk was packed and her belongings were ready to go and neither of her parents were home. Hermione lugged her trunk down the stairs attempting to fight back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. This was everything she had ever known, but her curiosity and thirst for knowledge were unquenchable; she needed to do this. Carefully, she placed a letter to her parents, explaining everything and where she was going, on the small table in the entryway besides a family portrait taken of them two Christmases ago. Then, with one last glance around her childhood home, she stepped out the door. Lugging her trunk behind her and her book bag thrown across her shoulder, Hermione walked until she came to a small and isolated alley only a few blocks from her home. She pulled her wand out of the back pocket of her jeans and took a deep breath. She had to do this; she needed the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione thrust her wand out in front of her as if she was pretending to hail a Muggle cab. Almost instantaneously, a triple-decker AEC Regent III RT bus appeared before her. A shabby looking man stepped off the bus and didn't even look at her as she stood there with her arm shaking. She could hardly believe that she was really doing this: she was running away from the only home she had ever known. The man pulled a cue card from his pocket and began to read it.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for a stranded witch or wizard. My name is—erm it's smudged—I'm uh, Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor for this evening."

The man shoved the cue card back in his pocket and looked at Hermione who was slowly lowering her wand, breathing heavily.

"Well are you coming or not?" Stan asked.

Hermione stood there, fumbling for once to find the right words. For a brief second, she almost regret having gone this far; but she needed to do this. She needed to figure out who she really was and staying with the people who had lied to her for nearly thirteen years was not going to solve anything, anytime soon. Hermione nodded her head, yes.

"Get on then before I start pushin' daisies," Stan said.

With another deep breath, Hermione stepped onto the purple bus as Stan took a few more steps to grab Hermione's trunk and belongings. For several moments, he struggled carrying the trunk onto the bus. Hermione watched as the man almost grew blue-in-the-face, from his attempt at trying to carry her trunk. Really, he should know that girls never pack light. As she walked inside the bus, she found it unlike any other bus she had ever been on. Granted, she had read about the Knight Bus before. The Knight Bus was first commissioned in 1865 as a method for those underage witches and wizards or those infirm to transport themselves discreetly and quietly. The idea had been proposed by the Minister of Magic at the time, Dugald McPhail, only after several failed attempts with ideas such as broomsticks with sidecars, which were vetoed.

But her eyes scanned her new surroundings. Instead of benches as most buses have, there were beds, curtained windows, giant chandelier, candles burning beside each bed, and people sleeping on those beds. Hermione waited for Stan Shunpike to appear again when the driver who wore thick glasses that made his eyes look at least three times their normal size turned his head around toward her. She took a few steps closer to the front and the driver, when the conductor pushed her forward. He pointed to which bed was hers.

"Hot chocolate or hot water bottle with a toothbrush?" the conductor asked.

"Excuse me?" Hermione questioned.

"Which deal you be wantin'? Thirteen sickles gets you a hot chocolate an' fifteen gets you a hot water bottle and a toothbrush in any color you be wantin'," he explained.

"Thirteen sickle option, please," Hermione said.

Stan rolled his eyes before he handed Hermione a receipt. She instantly found her bag and dug through it for some money. Most of her money was Muggle money and she hoped that she had enough Wizarding money left to pay the man. Thankfully, she found fourteen sickles, leaving her one extra. She handed the required amount to Stan and he called the man named Ernie to get the bus started. The bus started off in a flash, causing Hermione to fall backwards onto her bed. The people sleeping didn't even seem to notice the high speed or zigzagging through traffic.

"Where 'bouts you goin'?" the conductor asked.

"The Leaky Cauldron, please," Hermione said as she clung tightly to the bedpost.

"Whatchoo goin' there for?" the conductor asked.

"My—my parents said not to talk to strangers," Hermione responded.

"I's already told you, I's Stan. We ain't strangers no more," Stan furthered.

"I—I'm surprising a friend," Hermione said.

"Who's this friend?" Stan asked.

"You wouldn't know him," Hermione stated, hoping to sound vague enough to keep him from asking anymore questions.

"How you know I don't know 'im?" Stan questioned.

"He—he's Muggleborn," Hermione lied.

"Oh, one of them," Stan said.

Hermione looked out the window to see as the driver was driving down the middle of the road. She turned and cringed slightly. She knew the Muggles couldn't see them, at least that's what the book had said, but her own father's driving, well he wasn't really her father; but his driving terrified her enough and he stayed on the proper side of the road and within the boundary lines. Stan walked toward her and handed her the complimentary hot chocolate that came with her ticket. She hadn't been thirsty at the time, but once she took a sip of it, it seemed to instantly calm her frazzled nerves. It seemed like an eternity, but in reality it was only minutes before they appeared just outside the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione was thankful to get off the bus. She moved to grab her trunk, but Stan awkwardly took hold of it and tried to lift it. He waddled with it, trying to carry it off the bus before he dropped it to the curb. Stan clapped his hands together and strode back onto the Knight Bus. It took off hardly after Hermione had finally walked in front of it and made it on to the curb.

Hermione set her jaw rigidly before she took hold of her trunk and headed inside the Leaky Cauldron. Inside, she found witches and wizards gathered around the bar probably drinking to their heart's content of Firewhisky; but what almost immediately caught her eye was the familiar raven-haired, emerald eyed boy in the corner drinking his Pumpkin juice and eating his dinner. Hermione patted down her bushy hair as Harry caught a glance of her. To say that his face shown his surprise would be an understatement. He accidentally spit some of his pumpkin juice before his jaw practically unhinged as it hung open, staring at her. She was probably the last person he was expecting to see come through that door. Dragging her trunk behind her, Hermione walked over to the table Harry sat at. By the time she got to his table, Harry had regained some of his composure.

"Her—Hermione, what—what are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"I assume you got my letter," Hermione said.

"Haven't read it yet," Harry said sheepishly.

"Basically what it said was that my parents have been lying to me for years. They're not my parents. And I think this Sirius Black fellow murdered my mother. And I may have run away from home. But I've been doing some studying. I think this year is going to be interesting…" Hermione rambled.

"Wait, what was that?" Harry asked.

"This school year…" Hermione began.

"No, the part before that," Harry interrupted.

"I ran away from home," Hermione stated.

"Hermione, why would you do that?" Harry asked.

"Were you not listening to a thing I told you?" Hermione groaned.

"I heard that you ran away from home," Harry muttered.

"If you must know, I just couldn't take it anymore. I need to find out more about who I am and I figured besides Hogwarts, Diagon Alley would have the most…" Hermione began.

"Books," Harry finished for her.

"I don't know what I'll find; but I intend to find out something," Hermione said.

"How long are you staying then?" Harry asked.

"Until we go back to Hogwarts," Hermione responded casually.

"You can't just leave," Harry furthered.

"You did," Hermione retorted.

Harry fumbled for the right words to say. Hermione did have a point. He too was hiding out at the Leaky Cauldron, although in his defense, he wasn't sure Uncle Vernon would let him stay very long after what he had down to his sister. While there was silence between them, Hermione walked over to Tom, the barman, and paid for a room. She was thankful that he accepted the Muggle tender she offered him. Tomorrow, she would need to go to Gringotts and exchange the little Muggle money she had left for Wizarding money. Tom handed her the key to her room which she would be occupying for the remainder of the summer before she walked back over to Harry. He was just finishing up his pumpkin juice as she approached him again.

He looked at her key. Apparently, he was only two rooms down from her and according to Harry; the bloke in between them was a real bear in the mornings. Hermione yawned, very much exhausted after her long and emotional day. She wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in a comfortable bed and go to sleep. Part of her wished she was back at home, in the home that wasn't really hers, snuggled with her down pillows; but she couldn't go back there now. Especially not after she had already come this far. No, she was going to stay put in Diagon Alley for the summer until it was time to head back to Hogwarts: that was the plan. Harry lifted one end of her trunk and together they walked it upstairs until they reached the room she would be staying in. Harry promised to meet her for breakfast the next morning before he headed back to his own room. Hermione slowly turned the key and opened the room she would be occupying. It was simple, nothing fancy; but it would do.

Once she was somewhat settled into her new place, her stomach began to gnaw at her and the guilt began to overwhelm her. Even though they really weren't her parents, she knew that they were probably worried sick about her. She shouldn't care what they felt; but she did. She should at least let them know that she was safe. So, she quickly penned a letter telling them where she was staying, but they needn't come after her because she wouldn't go with them anyway. She then quickly ran down the hall and knocked heavily on Harry's door to find that he had already been asleep because his hair was far messier than the last time she had seen him. He allowed her to send a message using Hedwig, before he politely kicked her out so that he could sleep. Sleep. She needed sleep to; but there was so much to figure out yet. But she probably would need some sleep to process any information she found out. Sleep. That's what she did when she went back to her room. She jumped onto the large canopy bed and cuddled up with the closest pillow before she soundly fell asleep.


End file.
